


Grammastola pulchra

by DustyForgotten



Series: Arachnophobia [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2017), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Conventions, Enemies to Friends, Impulse Control, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mania, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-08-21
Packaged: 2019-06-30 20:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15758802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/DustyForgotten
Summary: Quiet again, followed by the rustling of fabric and a mouth uncomfortably close to the mic; has the receiver pinched between his cheek and shoulder. “You must be back to work, then. You’re welcome.”Through his teeth, Ren rasps, “What did you do?”A slight ding, slide, and Hux pointedly waits for elevator to close before answering. “I lied.”





	Grammastola pulchra

****He takes his keys from the ignition, folds them up into his hand, and closes his eyes. One deep breath before folding down the vanity. He smooths his hand over red hair, just close enough it tickles his palm, but doesn’t come out of place. He looks infallible, untouchable. He needs to.

The sleeves of his coat flutter only slightly at the speed of his stride, Millicent tucked tight to his breast. The speech he’s about to give is well-practiced, though not to Phasma. She would have killed him. _Your career, Hux. Don’t you dare._ Mania buzzes in his brain, but he’s done worse. He’s booked a flight to Denver next week; what could be worse than that?

Passing the desk that was never really his without a glance, Hux heads for the chief’s office. The door’s open, so he doesn’t hesitate to enter. “Might I have a word with you?”

She looks up from her paperwork, nods gently. “Of course. Have a seat.”

He latches the door behind him, face a reserved kind of consternation. Chief Holdo can tell this conversation is about more than another out-of-state presentation. Legs crossed, hands folded over one knee, he makes a calculated admission, “I wasn’t entirely honest with you, Amilyn.” Because they’re on a first name basis. Because he suffered hearing _Armitage_ from an authority figure just to make this work. A cold concern crosses her features. “About Kylo.”

* * *

 

“What.” Kylo’s still impressed with himself that he answered on the first ring, but it turns out this is the third time she’s called. Another second of silence, and he presses, “ _What._ ”

_“You sound terrible. Are you feeling alright?”_

He hasn’t brushed his teeth in four days, but then he registers the voice of his boss. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

_“I was going to invite you back, but if you’re coming down with something, it can wait.”_

“No, it’s just a cold, no problem.” He does not panic, sitting bolt upright on a sofa that crunches from all the crumbs. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with the investigation?” Ren looks towards the window; he hasn’t seen a cop around here in ages.

 _“We’re still looking into it, so I’m not at liberty to say, but a recent discovery did exonerate your involvement.”_ She sounds guarded, but that’s the chief for you.

“Okay, great. Great. I can be in tomorrow.”

_“I look forward to having you back. Goodbye.”_

“Yeah,” he says to a dial tone, “bye.”

As soon as the phone goes dark in his hand, Kylo calls Hux. Of course he doesn’t pick up. Dick.

* * *

 

Burglaries and break-ins and muggings galore; ‘tis the motherfucking season. Some man’s been dead for… well, fuck knows how long. TV’s still on, anyway, and Kylo’s just glad to be back— bitching at his team, circling the scene, tight conversations with cops and coroner, and that’s all he ever wanted— but something’s off. Phasma’s mascara-lashes don’t even stick together when she blinks, hunched over a man that’s gone from bloat to fucking burst. He’s convinced her eyes aren’t watering from the stench through sheer force of will. When they look up, Phasma frowns, and it’s only notable because she’s normally the one that doesn’t.

Maggots. Maggots _everywhere_.

Hux doesn’t have a voicemail, because of course he doesn’t. The closest is his extension at the station, and that number belongs to a different name. He could at least answer his goddamn texts.

Gloves snap loud enough to make him jump. “He’s out of town until the twelfth.”

Phasma looks way too put together for a crime scene, with her hair coiffed and diamonds dangling from her earlobes. How does she think she knows who he’s calling— but of course she does. Kylo would squint, if he weren’t already. “Where is he, then?”

“Convention, in Colorado.”

“Great…” He can just imagine the little asshole cackling over a glass of wine and his evil plan, all laid out in Powerpoint. Playdates with other arachnid-owning weirdos. Falling asleep without checking his fucking phone, alone in a four-star hotel… or worse.

“He didn’t tell you.” Eyeliner aside, she seems just as incredulous as Kylo.

“No. Why would he?”

Phasma purses painted lips, and shakes off any further consideration, turning back to the van. Kylo goes over his notes, and a lot more in his head.

* * *

 

Crime scene tape droops heavy with frost, so loose it’s starting to drape the ground. He’s got a few acres, up against everybody else’s few acres; God forbid he ever meet the neighbours. Nobody talks property lines, because nobody talks, and he’s only seen some lady and an off-lead shepherd walking while he jogged the other way, and she waved, which he has never encouraged. Nobody has fences so all their properties feel bigger than they are, but he can hear the barking sometimes, off to the south. No point hiding a dead man if your dog’s just gonna drag him back in.

Killer must not know, then. Does he even live here? Victim was a junior high teacher (he knows from the local news that still fills this place), well-liked and active for his age. It’s not a stretch to think he could have hiked up this way, maybe somebody knew he was coming—

How do they know it’s not him, anyway? He’s never had an alibi in his life. Kylo’s got no motive, but does anyone, with a guy like that?

Now that he’s thinking, Phasma never told him a thing— not about the death on his own land, even after he was cleared— that’s just common fucking courtesy— but she told Hux.

They know something. He’ll drag it out with goddamn calipers, if that’s what it takes.

* * *

 

All it takes is lunch from Wendy’s, as it turns out. Phasma covers her full mouth with short silver nails, detailing, “Flesh was almost entirely gone, but a skull fracture is fairly obvious. Hard to tell much else, in such a state.”

“So it could have been an accident?”

“Oh, absolutely not. It was off the trail, no blood on the rocks, and the maggots were intentional, of course.” She plucks a bite-sized fry from the pile, and skewers more of her salad. “Looks to me like it was planned to come off as an accident, but the inexperience gave it away.”

“What about the drowning?”

“Drowning?” Her brows arch in confusion, before waving it off. “Oh, that was a homicide— cut and dry, so to say.” She chews, eyes lighting up after her own fucking horrific joke. God, no wonder she and Hux get along.

“Then why is it all over the news as suicide?”

Phasma shrugs, and reaches for her water bottle. “Beyond me, Ren. If it bothers you so much, ask the chief.”

“I don’t trust Holdo as far as I can throw her.”

“I’d pay to see that, actually.” Her fry is dripping cheese, and she still has her fucking pinkie up. “You’ve been law enforcement before, right? You should know the red tape.”

“I know cops go corrupt like a goddamn Oprah giveaway…”

“No!” she shrieks, like they’re having this conversation at a Cheesecake Factory and you’ll never _believe_ what Jackie’s up to this time. “ _Amilyn?_ Absolutely not. She’s too bullheaded to be told by anyone.”

Kylo sucks on soda, snipes, “Did you have a fucking date with her last night?”

Phas purses unpainted lips— when the hell did he start thinking of her in abbreviations? Hux must be contagious— and looks him over like she’s considering calling Queer Eye on his ass. “For future reference, that’s what I generally look like when not expecting to end the day as a biohazard. I mean, there’s no point even showering if you’re going to be digging in dead bodies. Although, you obviously understand that…”

Aggressively, he digs into the bacon fries between them.

“Don’t be pissy with me because I happen to get _along_ with our boss and your boyfriend hasn’t called.”

Thank fuck he wasn’t drinking, because as it is, he nearly coughs up his quarter-pounder. Kylo takes a hasty sip to choke it down while Phasma grins behind clear plastic. “We’re not dating, what is this, high school? Goddamn.”

“I’m only teasing.” She dusts the salt from her fingertips with a disconcertingly sincere smile. “I’ve known Hux long enough to assure you, you’re not being ignored. He gets fairly absorbed in these sorts of things.”

“I’m not some fucking kid with a crush!” he argues, fists suspiciously tight around a bright red cup. “I can barely stand the bastard.”

The coroner looks at him too intensely, all clinical and far too smart for Kylo to have ever stood a chance. “You’re really not together.”

“What the hell have I been saying?”

She quirks a brow, sinisterly sharp and disarmingly light. “Someone should really tell the chief before she throws that coming out party.”

Long story short, that’s how he ends up in a Wendy’s parking lot, leaned against the coroner’s Camry while she types up a text message. There’s the Apple-patented sound of something being sent, and then she hands her phone over in exchange for his pen, and unfolds the half-finished sudoku workbook under her arm. Suddenly shy, Kylo squeezes the aluminum case experimentally, glances her way, is about to open his mouth when he’s cut off.

“Trust me, the second he sees that, you’ll have an earful.” Her gaze stays fixed on the greying pages, even as the cell starts to ring.

Throwing a squint that isn’t returned, Kylo picks up, and attempts his best falsetto, “Hello?”

 _“Tell me she didn’t! "_   It’s clear as crystal meth because they both have iPhones, but there’s a sociable hum from his end, the bustle of urban outdoors, and of course, Hux’s pitchy timbre. _“Oh God. I clocked Kenzie as a lesbian, but did she really spend her save on that tramp? ”_

“For fuck’s sake, Hux! You go off the grid, but you’re still a sucker for Big Brother?”

_“They’ve been gay-baiting me this entire season, Ren. Put me on speaker for a second. ”_

Grudgingly, he does. _“Phas? You’re dead to me. ”_

“See you Sunday,” she agrees, filling out another square.

_“Well then, Ren, it must be important if you’re willing to go through your arch nemesis for my attention. How may I entertain you today? ”_

“You outed me.”

It’s so silent, he almost wonders if Hux hung up just to avoid this— if it weren’t for the background buzz. He hears a door as the entomologist excuses himself. _“Speaking of aforementioned enemy, I’m assuming you want to keep this conversation private? ”_ He’s lost an entire octave, and it’s way easier to hear that way, even if his volume is down, too. Phasma quirks a brow as he brings the phone to his ear and retreats to a nearby tree, but she stays put with her papers. _“I had to leave the country when I came out, Ren. Do you really think I would do that sort of thing for kicks? ”_ Slumping against the trunk, Kylo refuses to admit he had. _“For your information, I had to out myself in the process as well. ”_

“As if we didn’t all know.”

Quiet, again, followed by the rustling of fabric and a mouth uncomfortably close to the mic; has the receiver pinched between his cheek and shoulder. _“You must be back to work, then. You’re welcome. ”_

Through his teeth, Ren rasps, “What did you do?”

A slight ding, slide, and Hux pointedly waits for elevator to close before answering. _“I lied. ”_

A troop of teenagers cut through the grass, speed up when they see the snarl he’s sporting. _“Something’s off at the station. I couldn’t tell you what— it’s still too soon— but I need someone inside to help figure it out. So, I spun a little story to explain your whereabouts at the time of death I discerned, pitched it to the chief, and you’re in the clear. So long as you’re not secretly the murderer, it shouldn’t inevitably matter. ”_

Another bell, and back to footsteps. “Mind telling me my own fucking alibi?”

_“Are you sure you want to know? ”_

“Hux—”

_“I had to account for quite a window, you know. Essentially any time in your own home for a week, at least. ”_

“What the fuck did you tell her!?” That startles a diner with window half-rerolled as he checks his drive-thru order, and Phasma, tip of his Bic in her teeth. Shit; he may as well just give it to her. Kylo counts his exhale, focuses on the swipe of a room key and click of a stiff hotel hinge. He wants to hit Hux just so he spits it out, deny the likely suspicions.

If Kylo weren’t quite so emotional at that moment, he may theorize someone was stalling out of insecurity. _“I said I’ve been spending the night rather regularly for the last two weeks. ”_

The CSI sighs and slides down the tree to sit on the roots, without really knowing why.

 _“Amilyn’s current understanding is a discreet sexual relationship, and she’s been trying to convince me to pursue something committed ever since. ”_ He sounds exasperated by the sentiment, which is somehow even worse. _“Act like I’m at least fuckable until I get back, can you handle that? ”_

“ _Yes,_ ” Kylo snaps, as if Hux thinks he’s so stupid he needs to be told that, as if he needs to pretend at all, “I can fucking _handle_ it.”

 _“Great— ”_ bedsprings squeal, Kylo tries to breathe because he can practically see him there, and doesn’t want to know what he’ll do in that room once he hangs up— _“hold onto that rage, and I won’t have to explain a thing. ”_


End file.
